Productive
by nileflood
Summary: Castiel Novak, seventh grade teacher, doesn't enjoy Parent Conferences. Mostly because of the parents he meets. Dean Winchester might not change Castiel's opinion on parents, but he certainly changes his opinion on Parent Confrences. Dean/Cas


There are some parents he sees all the time. Parents that come to pick up their children at the gates, parents that pop their head into the class-room door just to have a word once class lets out for the day, parents that will find his email address on the school website and send him messages. There's even some, every so often, that will call him and speak to him and make sure their darling little one is doing the very best they can and that Castiel is giving them all of his attention. They're the sort that tries to book double-slots at parent's night, the sort who have pen and paper with them and questions already set down.

Castiel resists the urge to roll his eyes at that particular sort of parent- he's sure they wouldn't take kindly to it if he did. But he's not here for the parents; his job has never really been about them. It's about the children in his care, although of course their parents need to know how well they are doing, what actions need to be taken at home to facilitate better learning. Parent Conferences simply eat up his time, time he could be using to plan more lessons, to marking work, to organising field-trips. But it's an evil that he has to bear.

It's half-way through the Parent Conference evening now and he's not as behind as he might otherwise be. He doesn't like to have to apologise to parents who've waited half an hour longer for their five-minute appointment because Cindy Millar's parents want every detail about their special princess and what to know what college they should be considering for their twelve-year-old.

The next name on his list is Adam Milligan. He's a good boy, even if he can be bitingly sarcastic when he wants to be, with a stubborn streak that can occasionally rear its head. His mother is a nurse, as he recalls, although she's not an over-protective parent. She lets her boy get on with school; she lets Castiel get on with teaching and it's a very successful technique. But as a nurse, she probably doesn't have the time to worry about problems that aren't there anyway.

He pauses, looking around to see if he can spot her. Blonde, if he recalls correctly, tall and slender but he doesn't see the woman he pictures anywhere in the hall. She might be delayed, he supposes, but he calls out anyway, "Milligan?"

She doesn't get up out of her seat, but the room is noisy and there are other teachers with other parents and so he tries again. No one. It worries him, but there isn't much he can do at the moment- he doesn't have Ms Milligan's contact number to hand, and there are other parents waiting. He'll fit her in when she arrives.

But she doesn't arrive.

Its half-past nine now, and most of the other teachers are finishing up, some have even packed up and gone home. That's really what he should be doing now, although after his run in with Mr Crowley who believes that nothing is good enough for his son, especially Castiel's teaching methods. Castiel doesn't need any reminding that Crowley has influence on the Board of School Governors, but Castiel has his own allies there, he doesn't need to worry about Crowley's threat of having him replaced. Still, he could do with a long vacation after that, or at very least a nice, cold drink.

He's so distracted by his own thoughts, gazing off into the dark windows on the other side of the hall that he doesn't realise there's a figure approaching, not till the man settles heavily into the chair in front of the folding table.

"Mr Novak?" It's a deep voice, a gruff one, belonging to an attractively scruffy man dressed in leather and grease-covered jeans. He doesn't sit properly in the seat, but lounges on it. It's a good way to break a chair, not to mention what it can do to posture. The man doesn't seem worried about that in the least, and Castiel can't help but notice the hints of muscle beneath the faded Metallica t-shirt. "Glad I caught you before you left. I didn't want to have to chase you to your car."

Castiel frowns. He doesn't know this man; he doesn't seem the sort of man to have a child in Castiel's 7th Grade class. He doesn't look much like any of them. They're all much better presented than this, none of them have those eyes or that grin, or that casual cockiness. "Can I help you?" He asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice, forcing his attention back to the papers on his desk as he tries to stack them neatly again, ready to go home. It wouldn't do to seem flustered just because a handsome man with freckles and green eyes and a problem with time-keeping is grinning at him.

"I'm here to talk about Adam. Adam Milligan? His mom couldn't make it. The hospital called her in." He shifts then, hand moving to the pocket of his jeans and Castiel has to try and breathe like a normal human being when the man leans, shirt riding up over low-slung jeans and revealing a glimpse of toned flesh.

A folded and slightly crumpled piece of paper is handed across the desk. Castiel takes it, hesitantly, and manages to unfold it without tearing it. The hand-writing is familiar, even if it is hurried, as is the signature. He sees it in Adam's homework diary every week, after all.

_I give permission for Dean Winchester to discuss my son, Adam Milligan, and his education with his tutors on my behalf. Kate Milligan._

"Winchester?" Castiel asks, because the name is familiar. He doesn't need the man- Dean- to supply a name. It comes to him after a second. Sam. Bright boy, very bright, kind too, despite his height. He was one of the few that never had someone come into parent conferences. He never had his homework diary signed either, but he always turned in the work. He would have been on some sort of list; if it hadn't been for the fact the boy seemed so... normal. Castiel had taught him, a year or two ago, before he'd gone on to Junior High.

"Yeah. Er, you taught Sammy too. He told me to say hi." Dean says, and shifts in his chair, almost uneasy as Castiel fixes him with a stare. It's none of his business, but he's trying to work it out, if this man is as actually as he appears, mid-to-late twenties, if he is Adam's father or simply Ms Milligan's boyfriend and what connection he has to Sam Winchester. Why come to Adam Milligan's parent conference and not Sam Winchester's?

The stare gives him all the answers he needs.

"Mr Novak. Sam is my brother. Adam's my half-brother. I'm doing Kate a favour. Just... tell me what you need to tell me and I'll get out of here, okay? You've got places to be and I should be getting back."

Castiel pauses at that. There isn't much he needs to discuss about Adam. He could apply himself a little more; concentrate in lessons even if they aren't his favourite subjects. He needs to stop keeping comics in his desk and reading them instead of his textbooks. He could start with any of those things. He could find the notes he had prepared on the boy's grades and strengths and yet he finds himself saying "Please. Castiel will be fine. The students call me Mr Novak."

If he thought that Dean's grin had been handsome, and maybe even a little disarming, the smile he was flashed then was several times more intense. He could look at it for hours. "Okay, Cas."

The half-smile that Castiel was about to return faded into an unimpressed face, one that didn't have the same sort of effect on Dean Winchester as the earlier stare, he didn't look ashamed in the slightest. Cas wasn't his name. Even if it did sound nice when it rolled off Dean Winchester's tongue. Many things probably did. If you cut him open his insides probably read 'charming rogue' or the modern equivalent which Castiel understood to be 'bad boy'.

"Dean!"

The shout was unexpected, making Castiel jump but Dean Winchester only turned to watch a young dirty-blonde boy stomp from the Hall's entrance towards their table. Adam spared his teacher a casual glance and a _Hi Mr Novak _before turning to his half-brother. "Dean, waiting in the car is boring. Michael's folks have offered me a lift home, so I'm going with them, okay?"

"_Michael's_ folks, hm?" Dean said, teasing and Adam's cheeks coloured slightly, the way they had done once when Castiel had seen him and Michael sat side-by-side in the Young Adult section of the library. "Yeah, sure, why not. In bed by 10:30."

"Whatever Dean." Adam said, with a wave back to his teacher and then he was running back to the doors, to the tall, dark-haired boy that had waited there for him. Castiel knew it wasn't overly responsible for Dean to allow his brother to run off into the night like that, but if Adam wasn't safe with the Principle's son, who would he be safe with?

"So..." Dean said then, flashing another suave grin and leaning forward, one arm resting on the table top. "Being the only people in a school at night? Sort of creepy. Why don't we go get burgers? You can tell me all about Adam's grades."

Dean helps him carry the box of files to the car, although they leave it in the car-park and take Dean's classic car around the corner to the little 24-hour diner. Castiel wasn't surprised that they didn't talk about Adam. They talked about films and music and family, how much Castiel liked burgers but how rarely he had them, how much Dean liked pie, all sorts of pie. Dean even offered Cas a spoonful.

And Castiel couldn't help but think this was possibly the most productive Parent Conference he'd ever been to.


End file.
